


Operation: Breakout

by ashes0909



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bored Tony Stark, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Manic Pixie Dream Tony, SHIELD is the target
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909
Summary: When your friends have been captured and held hostage by Director Fury, you've really only got one choice: bust them out.





	Operation: Breakout

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, FestiveFerret. This time you provided not only the beta and the idea, but also endless distraction at work. This manic dream is for you.

So, he hacked into the SHIELD conference rooms. So what? Big deal. Hadn’t everyone?

Sure, most people would hack into SHIELD to learn secrets and steal tech. Tony was probably the only one who hacked in to spy on America’s Greatest Captain, but no one said his pastimes fell on the normal side of society’s expectations. Plus, he was bored.

Cap, Bruce, Nat and, hell, even Clint were called in to meet with Mr. One-Eyed Buzzkill. He maybe, specifically, had told Tony to stay at the Tower, but whatever. Since when did Tony take orders from Fury? He left the suit there, that’s essentially the same thing. See - Tony Stark could compromise.

His feet swung off the catwalk that overlooked SHIELD’s grand lobby. White marble floors met white steel walls and it was all so  _ boring _ . What this place needed was some gold. Maybe some hotrod red. JARVIS could design something in less time than it took to outwit Reed Richards, but Tony wouldn't be doing it any favors because it had taken his friends away. 

Bored.

He stretched his feet out, adjusting the laptop on his thighs as he continued to watch the meeting. The conference room was just as boring as the lobby, white walls and metal accents, dark wood table that seated twenty. Plenty of room left for Tony, not that he wanted to be at the meeting. No. What he wanted to do was breakout Cap. 

Because Cap didn’t want to be there, he knew that as much as he knew the grate of this catwalk made his ass numb. 

It was up to him to save Captain America.

It had nothing to do with being  _ bored! _

A couple of clicks on the keyboard, and the security camera turned to zoom in to Fury’s face. He was talking about something, probably important but definitely boring. Another couple of clicks and Tony accessed the audio, confirming his suspicions. 

It was easy enough to gained control of the conference room's speakers. “Paging Mr. Ominous Trenchcoat.” He watched as everyone in the room froze. Fury’s eyes narrowed. From this angle he could see Clint laughing, and Steve doing his best not to do the same. “Captain America is needed in the Principal's Office.”

“Stark!”

“One and only.”

Fury was pointing at the camera now. Whoops. He only pointed when he was angry. “I said to stay in the Tower.”

“Ac- _ tu _ -ally,” Tony drew out the word, lifting his mic and clearing his throat. “You said, ‘Iron Man, you stay there.” His feet swung back and forth as he delighted in the way Fury rubbed at his temples. “Iron Man is still at the Tower.”

Fury sighed, deeply. “Can someone please shut down that camera?” He was addressing some SHIELD lackeys by the door, and five minutes later, the camera feed went dead. 

Well then.

He reached into his backpack, pulling out a piece of gum to chew while he chewed over a new strategy. Below him the lobby erupted with the sounds of bells.  _ One - Two - Three - Four... _ All the way to twelve. Noon. 

Noon. 

Noon meant lunch, and lunch meant food delivery, because Tony knew they weren’t anywhere near done with that meeting. His fingers danced across the keyboard, moving from the conference room to the program for the cafeteria. He blew a bubble with his gum as he pulled up the menu for Conference Room 1A: Turkey Sandwiches. Gross. But it was already packaged and ready to go, so there was nothing he could do to change that. What he could change was the staff. 

He scrolled through the names and their corresponding ID photos, searching for someone that even remotely looked like himself. Hell, these cafeteria uniforms were basically a bedsheet covered with an apron. It wouldn’t be the most flattering of disguises, but beggars and choosers and all.

Lunch was in thirty minutes, he had enough time. Probably. There- Philip Moretti. 5’9, tan complexion. Even the facial hair matched. Tony wasn’t going to find better than that. 

Catapulting over the catwalk landing was fun, realizing too late he was in sneakers and not, in fact, the Iron Man boots, was not. But he pulled it off. It wasn’t  _ that _ high, and his legs benefited from a little jolt every once in a while. God, he felt like he was back at MIT again, trying to outrun the dean after another unauthorized experiment in the courtyard. Quick, to the cafeteria!

It was pathetically easy to bribe Mr. Moretti out of his uniform and SHIELD ID. They really needed to do something about the loyalty of their personnel. But oh well, their problem, his gain. 

One wheel of the lunch cart creaked as he pushed it over the lobby marble which actually worked in his favor because everyone looked at it and not the man that had just ‘superhero landed’ in the middle of their workday. He rolled the cart to the elevators, catching his reflection on the mirrored doors. On his head a white chef’s hat tilted to the side, and his button down chef’s coat swamped his frame. He looked ridiculous. 

It wasn’t until he was in the elevator that he realized he needed a plan. 

Plan. Plan. Plan. He tapped his fingers against the elevator wall, watching it go down, instead of up, deep into the underground levels of SHIELD. He poked the plastic wrapped sandwich. “Do you have a plan?” 

The turkey sandwich remained silent. 

“Well then, I guess we’re improvising.”

The elevator dinged open on 1A to another white hallway, how refreshing. There was only one door at the end of the hall and it didn’t take long before he was stopped in front of it. “Well,” he told the turkey sandwich. “Here goes nothing.”

“--the ballistics location is prime for espionage and that-- oh, lunch.” Fury was not looking at him at all. His eye was on the squeaky wheel too, and he wanted to high five the turkey sandwiches, but instead, his gaze found Steve. 

Steve was not looking at the wheel. Nope, he was looking right at Tony, lips pressed together, trying their hardest to hold back his laugh, as his head shook. 

Tony looked around the room, trying to see if maybe the bare, white walls could gift him with a cunning plan. Bruce was also looking at the wheel, but Nat had her eye on Tony. Clint was leaning back in his chair, looking at his phone. Tony looked back at Steve. 

All he could think to do was point at the cart. 

Steve lifted a single eyebrow. 

On his right, the sound of two chair legs hitting the ground. “Ha!” Tony turned to see Clint pointing across the not-white conference table. “What are you  _ wearing? _ Are you serious right now? Stark, come on, is this the halftime show? What are you--” 

“Stark!” Fury joined in finally, his super spy senses kicking in never. 

“--Why are you pointing at the cart?” Clint looked between him and Steve, before slamming his hands down on the conference table with another bout of laughter. “Are you really trying to sneak Cap out of here under a cloth-covered sandwich cart? Did you just finish a Three Stooges marathon or something? I thought you were supposed to be a genius--”

“Out! You’re not even supposedto be in the building, Stark.” Fury pressed a button that was strategically placed underneath the bottom of the conference table, and Tony whipped off his chef hat and bowed low by the door. He used the opportunity to slip his clothes out from the bottom of the cart.

“I’ll be back!” 

“You will not!” Fury shouted after him, and he said some other words too. Tony couldn't hear them because he was making a swift exit down the hallway to catch the only elevator on this floor before the armed guards could. There were only three floors between the lobby and 1A. He had thrown the chef’s hat at Clint after his exaggerated bow, and Tony now pulled the large coat over his head after ripping off the apron. Forget shoes. He didn’t need them, but he did need pants. Pants and a shirt. Ding. Two floors left as he wriggled the shirt on. One, and his pants were up around his thighs. He managed to secure them on his hip with only his zipper, before the doors opened to the lobby. 

Agents swarmed towards the elevator, pushing Tony out of the way, obviously heading to Fury, blind of any information. 

Success. His catwalk was in sight. 

~~~

Remember how last time Tony went into center of the Death Star without any plan at all? Well this time he may’ve overcompensated a little. 

He had a plan. A very genius plan. Except, it may have been a plan better suited for villains than bored superheroes, but c’est la vie. A plan was a plan, and this time he had one! The realization that  _ maybe _ the plan was a bit...excessive, only struck him while he was pushing the non-toxic, but very smoke inducing, gas canister into the air vent that led to 1A. 

It wouldn't  _ hurt _ anyone, even inhaling the smoke would only irritate a little, and no one made it through SHIELD without a bit of irritation, anyway. 

R&D, on the other hand, would be a little more than irritated when they noticed their missing property…. A twist of the nozzle, and the gas started to hiss from the can. 

“Nobody breathe!” he heard Fury shout from the other side of the vent. 

“Yeah, sure,” Clint’s sarcastic voice followed. 

“We should be leaving.” Natasha, always the one with her head on her shoulders. 

“That's exactly what he wants!” Fury sounded furious, and that would never prove boring to Tony. 

“He?” Steve questioned. “You really don't suppose this is  _ Tony? _ ”

“I do suppose, Captain. This is entirely a Stark move. The gas is obviously harmless, just enough to--” The SHIELD evacuation alarm blared. “And there it is.”

It sorta warmed him how well Fury knew him, almost as much as it warmed him whenever Steve thought the best of him. 

Sorry, Steve, time to break you free!

“This will not end this meeting.”

Clint groaned. From the other side of the air vent, so did Tony. 

“That's what he wants, and I am not in the business of giving Tony Stark what he wants! We're switching conference rooms. Come on.”

~~~

Well, he managed to give Steve a window. That was a nice consolation prize. Cap loves a good window. 

He was also sure he managed to get Fury to tack on another half a  _ day _ to their meeting. So he was back on his catwalk perch, feet swinging. He made it through two sticks of gum, silently fuming. It wasn’t even two o’clock yet and now he knew Fury would be keeping his friends hostage all day out of spite. 

Time to up his game. 

Fury thought he could take away his friends, his afternoon routine of Steve bringing him food in the workshop? That was his time to check out Steve's post-run sheen and listen while he rambled about his morning. 

There was no run today and no meal and no ramble, all because of Fury.

Well, Fury could go screw himself. It was time to think outside of the box.

Tony knew people. He knew people more powerful and more important than Director Fury of SHIELD. Hell, he was invited to the birthday parties of the leaders of the United States, Wakanda, and Canada! He turned down all but Trudeau because who could resist Trudeau? He had brought Steve to that party, and they were both so charmingly polite to one another. And Steve had looked gorgeous in his formal uniform. He’d been so bright-eyed and excited and…. he’d digressed.

He reached into his backpack for his cellphone, scrolling until he landed on Office of POTUS. That certainly outranked Director Spiteful Pants. He remembered Andrea at the State Dept. too, hopefully-- “I’m sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.”

And god damnit political shifts, a constant bane of his existence. He could make a few calls on Wall Street. A solid stock market crash could… No, bad idea, SHIELD didn’t care much about the stock market. Fury cared about wars and espionage. 

He blew a bubble with his gum, sucking it in before it popped. He could start a war, but that would probably make Steve not-so-happy. 

He had to think, something closer to the ground, something here. Something he could do. 

They did have a window, now. Maybe he could Iron Man over there and break it, gather up Steve and fly him away. You know, something subtle. 

He pulled the laptop back into his lap, typing a few lines of code until he had control of the new conference room’s camera. It was aimed at Fury (gross) but he was able to move it until it landed on Steve. He was sitting next to Clint who looked like he always did on any longterm wait in a perch. He was asleep with eyes open. Someone had thrown balls of paper at him, because they were piled up next to the elbow he rested his weight on. Steve kept shooting Clint glances, but mostly eyed the window and, every so often, Fury.

Steve was bored. Steve shouldn’t have to be bored. 

Screw this, he could think of a plan in the Iron Man suit. He pressed a button on his laptop, before running off the catwalk and out the lobby doors. “Come and get me, beautiful.”

~~~

Flying cleared his mind, it gave him a place where he controlled all the variables. 

Pretending to swim through the air outside the conference room window was his decision, and he’d execute it flawlessly from inside Iron Man. 

Clint was doubled over with laughter, pointing towards Tony in what looked like a pantomime of hilarity. Next to him Steve suppressed a grin, eyes darting to Fury every now and then. The Killer of Fun was standing with his arms crossed and a death glare pasted on his face; Tony started doing the moonwalk.

Yes, it was juvenile. Yes, it was a waste of time and resources. But Fury was angry and Steve was grinning, so there must be something right with their afternoon.

Fury walked towards the window. Tony pretended to walk down stairs. Fury reached for his holster, was he really about to draw his weapon? That seemed a bit excessive-- No, not a weapon. A remote. He pressed the only button and gave a little wave. 

Thick metal shutters banged along the outside of the window, slamming away the rest of his distract and entertain Steve plan. 

How rude.

He propelled his boots off the shutter, hoping to leave as much of a clang of metal against metal as possible, before shooting up in the air, high over New York. The SHIELD tower was below, the Avengers tower in the distance, a straight shot into the horizon and he would be home. He could wait for Steve, for the Avengers, for this stupid, boring, routine-altering meeting that he’d been  _ left out of _ to end and, was everything a competition? Did he really have to beat Fury?

He flipped, air rushing past as he broke the sound barrier. “JARVIS connect me with SHIELD blueprints. I have one showstopping hail mary attempt and my god if Fury doesn’t end the meeting after this than I have underestimated Director Glarecelot. Find me a decent entrance.”

“Sir, there’s one on the rooftop--”

“Something closer, there has to be a side entrance for maintenance, or hell a window that I can break.” Tony zipped around the building, easily identifying their floor from the blackout shutters that gripped the window. 

“If you want to break in through a window, Sir, you do not require my assistance.”

“JARVIS,” He threw his hands out, flying gauntlet first into the window next to the meeting. “Sometimes, I just like hearing the sound of your voice.” 

Glass shattered around the suit, he somersaulted, coming to a stop in the corner of another conference room. He stood, brushing glass off the suit when he looked up to see the faces of half a dozen SHIELD administrative staff. One woman screamed. Iron Man lifted his arms. “I come in peace.”

Then he high-tailed it out of there before anyone could question his presence. Fury had to have an alert out for him, it was only a matter of time before they got over their shock and remembered. 

Time wasn’t something he needed anymore. His slid to a stop outside the conference room, enhanced vision allowing him to see Fury, hands braced on the conference table, in infrared vision. It was now or never. He let the suit peel away and stand sentry behind him. Looking down one side of the hall, then the other, he turned back to face the Iron Man suit. “Have I said it’s now or never, yet? Cause it’s definitely now or never.” He reached for his jacked, pushing it off his shoulders then beginning at his buttons. When he finished, his hand paused on the doorknob. He took a deep breath, pasted an exaggerated smile on his face and turned to knob. 

It sure was drafty.

“--and the reconnaissance will only work if--” Fury did a doubletake as Tony strutted into the room. Looking around the table, Tony winked at Bruce, who was shaking his head, he did a little, ‘what can you do?’ shrug to Natasha, he didn’t even want to look at Clint, so he scanned right past him to Steve. 

Fury was advancing, finger pointed in disapproval. Tony kept his eye on Steve, adjusting his sunglasses. “Are you naked right now? Really? Have you stooped so low that you’re here, interrupting us again, this time completely naked--”

“Uh no,” Tony lowered his sunglasses. “I’ve got these on.”

“Oh, for the love of-- Go! Get out of here, all of you. We’ve covered all pertinent factors and I am sick of-- No, you know what, you stay. I’m leaving.”

And then he was a flurry of trenchcoat and rage, fists clenched by his side, glaring at the door when it required him to unclench said fist. He left the door open and Tony called in his sentry suit, eye on Steve all the while.

Tony couldn’t quite figure out his expression, Fury’s tantrum wasn’t enough to pull him away from it though. The blue eyes were wide, never dropping from Tony, but also constantly moving, as if he was trying to mentally record every facet of Tony’s body. His cheeks were flushed and his body language sang, “oh no I’m doing something wrong!” But still, he looked. At least until the suit wrapped back around Tony, leaving the helmet off. Then Steve re-met Tony’s gaze and looked, well, shell-shocked.

The other Avengers were making their way to the door, Bruce dropping a hand to his metal covered shoulder in thanks, Natasha shooting him an eyebrow lift. “Really, will you do anything to get your way?”

“Hey! Jarvis, the original one, called this move a showstopper.”

“I’m sure he did.” Natasha smirked, eyes moving to Steve. “Stopped one of us, at least.”

“I’m right here, Nat,” Steve groaned. “I can hear you.”

Clint was sitting on the table now, feet swinging, and it reminded him of his backpack and laptop. “Hey Clint, pack of gum for you if you swing by the lobby and grab my stuff from my catwalk headquarters.”

“Fuck you,” Clint said around a smile. “I’m not your Happy.”

“Fine, I’ll build you a new bow if you go get it.” 

Clint jumped from the table, hand outstretched, and Tony curled the gauntlet around it, shaking. “Deal. That suit really hides your hideous figure.”

“Oh, shut up, Robin Hood. I look great! Look, I broke Cap, that’s how good I look.” He pointed to where Steve stood on the other side of the table, his hands lifting and falling in exasperation. 

“I’m perfectly fine, guys.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “And I’m out of here.”

He shut the door behind him and suddenly they were very much alone in the conference room. For some reason he was bracing himself, muscles tense as he waited for Steve to...something. “Ta-da!” Tony went for exuberant in light of all the uncertain staring. “Thus endth your worst meeting ever.”

“Worst?” Steve asked, eyes still wide as Tony walked around the table. “Don’t you mean the best? All the interruptions, it was astonishing Tony, I thought Fury was going to implode. And then you rolled in the lunch cart and swam outside the window and-- You know he broke that remote for the shutters by pressing it too hard right? He kept trying to continue the meeting too and--” He could tell the exact moment Steve remembered Tony’s last attempt to end the meeting, by the way his face turned tomato red. But he was brave, he was Captain fuckin’ America, so Tony wasn’t surprised when he pushed on. “And the end. Well, you sure did get him Tony. He had finished ages ago too, repeated things just ‘cause he could. Then you showed up all...and, well, it may be my best meeting ever.  _ Definitely _ my best meeting at SHIELD.” He dropped his gaze, eyes roaming Tony’s chest with a hint of regret, like he wished he could see right through the armour.  

“Yea,” Tony swallowed. “You know, had to breakout my best teammate. It’s boring out there without you.”

Steve’s eyes shot back up to his. “Yea? You always seem so caught up in whatever’s going on in your workshop.”

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “But then I’m forced to go an afternoon without a visit from you and well, when you start expecting something… And I’m pretty sure Fury just took you from me out of spite.” Tony pouted, eyes falling to the conference room floor.

Then there was a hand on his cheek, rough and calloused and definitely Steve’s. “Best meeting ever,” he whispered the words, and then his lips were on Tony’s and oh, wow, they were definitely kissing. Tony tried to rewind, to figure out how this had even happened, but then he felt the tip of Steve’s tongue against his lips and he stopped caring. An arm wrapped around his waist, as he threw his around Steve’s shoulder. He huffed under the weight of the Iron Man suit but didn’t break the kiss. 

Tony wished he could feel him, but the damn suit, and he pulled back to breathe and Steve stepped away and now Tony was the one standing shell shocked. “You just kissed me.”

“Yes.” Now he was brushing Tony’s bangs off his forehead and his eyes looked so kind and so blue, and what was going on? One minute he was rescuing his friend from an evil one-eyed tormentor and the next he was being kissed by the same man he’d been trying to save. 

“You seem really casual about this. Have we kissed before? Did I miss something?”

“Do you think you’d forget kissing me?” Steve asked, eyebrow cocked.

“No. Not at all.” Tony emphasized each word. He wrapped his arm back around Steve’s waist, testing how far he could take this, because he was definitely on board. 

“I don’t think I read this wrong, right?” Steve asked, eyes dropping back to Tony’s lips, then finding Tony’s gaze again. “I mean, you wanted me to crawl under the lunch cart. And also you blew me a kiss by the window.”

“I blew everyone a kiss by the window.”

“You wouldn’t stop staring at me while you were naked.”

“You only know that because you were staring right back at me.”

“Can you blame me?” Steve countered. “You were naked! When you’re around the guy you’re kind of sweet on stare, naked or not. And you were staring right back so…”

“Kind of sweet on, huh? And I was staring back,” Tony conceded through a smile. “I guess that means I’m kind of sweet on you too.”

“So there are feelings?” Steve kissed him again, quick, like he couldn’t believe he could.

“Of course there’re feelings.” Tony felt warm, a happiness building in his chest that he hadn’t thought he needed or wanted. But it was there, it had been there, every time he hung out with Steve. “You don’t think I’d spend all day breaking you out just because I was bored, do you?”

Steve pulled Tony closer despite the weight of the Iron Man suit, laughing. “Nope, not at all.”

_ fin _


End file.
